


insatiable

by CrystallizedInsomniac



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: DFAB reader, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Paws and Claws Event, Possessive Sex, Scent Marking, with every fic i post i expose myself more and more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedInsomniac/pseuds/CrystallizedInsomniac
Summary: "I'm not like my brothers," Lucifer says, and you're not sure if it's meant to comfort you or to make his brothers realize how embarrassing they're being right now. "I won't be succumbing to the primal needs of my animal."
Relationships: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 441





	insatiable

**Author's Note:**

> //leaves this here. ~~im sorry~~.

_That's the third one this week,_ you sigh internally, and it was your favorite pair too. 

The only reason you're stopping in front of Lucifer's office is because today is laundry day for you, and the basket in your arms should be considerably more full than it is. As it stands, it's missing quite a few of your underwear, your favorite ones, and it's been going on long enough that you're starting to get annoyed by the fact that someone is taking them.

You _know_ they're being stolen because you've found a couple of them in weird places around the house. You don't like to think too hard about the slightly, erm, crunchy texture to them when you do find them. Which is besides the point and not the reason why you're upset. It's the principle of the thing.

You just don't steal someone's underwear.

You open up the door to his office with your non-dominant hand, and with you foot you kick it open.

"We need to have a serious conversation about your nasty brothers," You're expecting Lucifer to be alone in his office, which is why you're running your mouth before your eyes can even pinpoint his location in the office. "If another article of clothing goes missing you're going to start losing siblings, _fast_."

Satan's laughter cuts clear, and you stumble in your step. Eyes wide, your head snaps his direction. He's seated in one of the couches Lucifer keeps in his office. 

"Animals at heart," Satan says, shooting you a look that shows how delighted by your interruption he is.

Off to the side, you hear Lucifer sigh, heavily, _dramatically_ , and then your name; "Close the door."

You mutter an apology before doing so, and placing the laundry basket at your feet. 

Your eyes flicker between the two brothers, clearly unexpecting them to be in the same room in silence. You're half-tempted to ask Lucifer if he finally got rid of you. All because he got bored of your presence while he does paperwork that he's deemed _Satan_ , out of all people, to be a suitable partner.

You squint. "Are you cheating on me?"

Lucifer says your name, "Focus."

Satan lets out a pleased purr. 

You roll your eyes. Whatever. You came here for one thing and one thing alone. 

"You guys need to get your shit together," you say. Uncaring of the way you _know_ Lucifer's lips have thinned out at your language. "I know the cupcakes have made it difficult for you guys to be... normal." Which isn't really the right word to describe any of them, but it'll do, "but this is just ridiculous."

"I'm not like my brothers," Lucifer says, and you're not sure if it's meant to comfort you or to make his brothers realize how embarrassing they're being right now. "I won't be succumbing to the primal needs of my animal."

Satan scoffs, green eyes peering over the book he's been engrossed over for the last couple of days since you gave it to him. His tail waves lazily, draped over the couch, the bell attached to it ringing softly. "That's a bit hypocritical, isn't it?"

"Satan," Lucifer's stern warning—more akin to a growl _—_ is promptly ignored by Satan. Especially so when your attention snaps his way with a "what? why?" out of your mouth just as Lucifer narrows his eyes at him. 

A wry smirk curls over his lips, and the blonde lowers the book to his lap. He looked like he wasn't particularly interested in the conversation up until this very moment, elbow propped up on the arm of the couch and leaning his head on his hand. But his eyes say a lot more than his composure does when he deems the two of you more interesting than the book in hand.

Not that you saw him turn _any_ pages in the amount of time you've been in Lucifer's private office, but you won't be saying anything about _that_. 

Satan, quite literally, looks like the cat that got the cream.

"Don't you know?" Satan says, fangs peeking behind his lips. He's speaking to you, but his attention is solely focused on Lucifer. "Mangy _mutts_ like him... they're only thinking about one thing only."

The silence in the living room becomes deafening, and without having to look back you know that Lucifer has to be glaring daggers at the younger brother. You feel a bout of exasperation beginning to bubble up, have to bite down the urge to mediate between the two—told yourself you would stop that, the whole meddling thing. 

You're about to change the subject when you see Satan's face light up, eyebrows raised and mouth parted into a soft _oh_ that has no right sounding that amused. You quickly turn to look behind you in hopes of catching what Lucifer did.

All you're met is with his side-profile.

Lucifer's glaring to the side, wolf ears atop his head flattened to his head and hands curled into fists. He hasn't been wearing his gloves ever since Luke brought those cupcakes and they all underwent their transformation—the animalistic traits of their animal not only manifesting in the way of tails and ears, but also their _mannerisms_.

As it stands, Lucifer's nails have turned sharper, longer, resembling claws more than anything else. The red on them is a deeper color too—makes you think that it looks a lot like that of his own eyes when the light catches them _just_ right. There's a faint blush marring his pale complexion that's been ever present for the last couple of days or so—and you _had_ inquired about it but he had brushed you off— but aside from that, nothing weird.

You raise an eyebrow, eyes flickering between the two siblings.

"Okay." You say, if only to disperse the tense silence in the room. You bend down to pick up your laundry basket, ignore the way you can feel Lucifer's eyes on the back of your head now. "Great conversation you guys, we should do this more often."

Silence.

You take a step back, eyes flickering between the two of them. Satan's gone back to curling himself up on the couch, tail wrapped around himself as he continues to read his book. When you chance another look at Lucifer, you catch him pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, the flush on his face hasn't left, and you're suddenly struck with a feeling of guilt.

"Luci," you say softly, as if Satan's cat ears don't perk up at the sound. He has the decency to not outright look up from the book, instead focusing on it and staying out of the conversation. Lucifer's eyes close, and if it weren't for the sound of his tail thumping once against the side of the chair, and his ears perking up at the sound of his name, you would've assumed he's ignoring you.

The cupcakes were a double-edged sword.

On one side, you got more honest answers and reactions from the brothers—not that they hadn't done their best to open up to you both emotionally and physically ever since your relationship with them became more affectionate and personal in nature—because as much as they kept their feelings guarded to themselves, the animal traits were dead giveaways of how they truly felt about stuff.

It's become easier to gauge moods now in the last two weeks that they've been stuck like this, much to your amusement. On the other hand, it has to be emotionally taxing—not being able to control what you show to others, and for demons like Lucifer and Mammon, it has to be hell.

"It's not a big deal," you start, not really sure where you're going with this. You have his attention however, so you continue. "I just wanted to let you know, um..." You glance at the basket cradled in your arms, a small smile grazing your lips, "...in case you end up finding my clothes in places it shouldn't be."

Lucifer says your name, you cut him off.

"—It-it's fine! _Really!_ " You let out a nervous laugh, not really sure why, maybe you should shut up. Yeah. "It's not like it's any of you guys fault and I read once that animals like to uh..." You trail off, you have an inkling that whatever comes out next from your mouth will result in either an awkward silence or laughter. You're not sure your pride can take another hit. 

At this, Lucifer lowers his hand from his face, blinks slowly at you. You hear another thump, probably his tail. To the side, Satan does a horrible job of hiding his snickers at your poor attempt at apologizing. Is that what you're doing?

Lucifer opens his mouth, "Yes?" and _oh,_ the bastard. That's the beginning of a cruel smirk playing at the corner of his lips, you huff, feeling your face warm under his stare. 

You lick your lips, ignore the way his eyes zero in on the movement just as quick. You shift your weight onto your other leg. "Clothes. It's fine."

 _If you guys find my smell comforting, I don't mind... just don't steal my shit. I can give you my sweaters or whatever._ Is what you want to say, but find yourself incapable of. It'd be weird, you reason, to try and give permission now to something so dumb like this. Maybe it should go unsaid, it is after all how it all started—with you stealing Leviathan's jacket one day. 

It wouldn't be the first time really—Asmodeus and Belphegor have made it very clear to you that as a human you have a very specific scent to you that is _just_ , _so irresistible! darling, you're a walking temptation to us demons, don't you know?_ and _smell thousands time better than any of the others down here_. Very territorial creatures, demons are. You might not get the smell thing, but you can definitely understand the _comfort_ thing. You like wearing their clothes, like the way it feels against your skin, warm and heavy.

It goes without saying, because if there's one thing you've learned, that you can't let them know just how _safe_ the action of wearing their clothes makes you feel. Like you're invincible as long as you're under something of theirs, if their presence is not anywhere near them. It'll get to their heads. 

Also, Devildom clothing is made up of an unfairly soft material that you don't think exists in the human realm. 

The only one who hasn't shared any of his things has been Lucifer. You're not disappointed or mad, you like to respect his personal boundaries, and even Mammon has _some_ things he doesn't like you wearing—which are nothing in comparison to everything else he has given you of his, he likes draping you in jewels and gold, something that had to be stopped once the cupcakes came into the mix and you found _Beelzebub_ out of all the brothers threatening him if he kept making you reek. 

Whatever that means.

As it stands, tensions have been high as of late. Finding Satan casually relaxing in Lucifer's private study certainly made you stop short when you first walked in, but given that no furniture was broken and there wasn't any blood—that you could see—you figured they've come to some sort of truce while sporting the animal traits. 

"Hm," Lucifer says. 

Satan pipes up with a; "You're playing with fire, [Name]."

Another thump, harsher. The beginning of a growl.

Now, their relationship has mellowed out ever since the switching bodies thing, but their arguments have turned harsh every once in a while. Satan likes to poke fun at Lucifer way too much, something so ingrained in him from millennia that it's be to be expected that he won't be able to drop the habit to do so so suddenly.

What surprises you is that Lucifer is easily succumbing to the taunts, and _this_ time it wasn't even directed at him. You narrow your eyes, you have a feeling you're missing something here. You're just not sure what.

You should keep moving. All you wanted to do was do your laundry, but now that you're here and they seem to be hiding something, that stubborn part of yourself is just demanding that you get answers. You open up your mouth to do just that, but Lucifer beats you to the punch.

His voice is deep when he says your name, the beginning of a growl that tampers down into annoyance when he looks your way, and says; "I believe you have dinner duty tonight with Mammon, don't you?"

And well, that's a dismissal if you've ever heard one. 

You walk out of his office.

You chance one last look behind you, slightly startled when you see Lucifer's eyes focused on you. There's something heated in his gaze, makes a shiver run down your spine, but it is cut short when the door closes in front of you. You wait a beat, just outside the door.

You hear muffled speaking, and then slightly louder, something from Satan— _Y_ _ou're making the room reek_ and — _them know now, you can't keep denying yourself_ before you decide to leave.

They probably won't kill each other.

Probably.

They don't, in fact, kill each other.

Which really doesn't mean anything at all until after twenty minutes have passed since dinner was served and everyone else had gathered around the dining table except for Satan and Lucifer.

Before that, stuck between Leviathan and Asmodeus—one clinging to your arm and making it difficult to take a bite of your dinner, if you hadn't been distracted amusedly at Mammon's current lead of the conversation, and the other brother not quite clinging but close enough to brush shoulders and legs—you watch the mess you've caused, and decide that maybe bringing up those two being alone together was not a great idea.

You didn't know how power hungry these bastards were. 

"As the second in power, it's only _fair_ that I become the head of the house." Mammon's standing up on his chair, one foot planted on the table and giving himself an aura of importance and what you're assuming has to be some sort of attempt at an _alpha_ posturing. "It's what Luci would've wanted."

You raise an eyebrow. To your side, Leviathan snorts and Asmodeus rolls his eyes. Beelzebub even looks up from his food, and the look that crosses his face is so damn funny that you almost miss Belphegor's comment.

"You'd set the house on fire before that," he says.

"What? No way!" Mammon crosses his arms over his chest, baring his teeth at Belphegor. Asmodeus lets out a pleased noise, not hiding the fact that he's enjoying where this is going. "Ya damn fox, stop projecting your own shit onto me! No way would I set the house on fire."

"Yeah, he wouldn't set the house on fire." You pipe up, and Mammon's tail does the _cutest_ little thing ever when he sees you've jumped up to his defense, you _almost_ feel bad about your follow up. Almost. "He'd have us out on the street before midnight, no house and no money either because we all know where that would go."

Everyone gives a single, synchronized nod. Mammon splutters.

"I think," Beelzebub's voice pops up. Sitting straight across from you and his other two older brothers, the three of you have clear access to the way he's been destroying the huge pieces of bloodied meat on his plate, sharp canines digging through the flesh with scary ease. His hands and mouth are covered in blood, and when he licks his teeth with that tongue of his, the action reminds you so much of a dangerous predator that your stomach flips just the tiniest bit. It's wild, really, because his eyes are so soft and so is his voice, especially when he directs his gaze from you towards Asmodeus. "I think Asmo should be the next in charge."

You must have let out a small sound of surprise because Asmodeus laughs right next to you, a soft delighted thing. He's been softer around the edges lately, you want to call it _lazy_ , but it's a more mellowed out feeling. You think it makes sense, given how cold it's become outside lately. 

"Hmm," he hums as he disentangles himself from your side. Placing his elbows on the table and propping his head atop his laced hands, he tilts his head to the side. "You're not scared I'd let the power get to my head?"

For a second, you can't help but wonder if they're being serious—not about the Asmodeus being the head of the house, but rather, just the single fact that they're considering who should in be in charge if Lucifer were to be gone—but that's gone as soon as Mammon protest, very loudly.

He smacks both palms on the table. "Ain't no way in hell we letting that horny bastard in charge! I mean, just _look_ at him!" which isn't really helping his point because Asmodeus is just unfairly cute when he wants to be, and the bears ears stuck atop his light-brown hair have, somehow, doubled this fact. 

He's promptly ignored.

Beelzebub is as honest as they come when he replies to Asmodeus question. "Not at all."

"Anyone but Mammon is a good option," Levi pipes up.

Mammon threatens to hurt him, Leviathan ignores him.

"It wouldn't be any different than how it was before." Belphegor agrees, and _oh?_ what does that mean?

You're about to ask when you feel arms around your shoulders and a face nuzzling into the side of your neck, and then—purring. You turn your head to the side only to catch Satan's smug face, he opens his mouth, probably to say something, but you feel his arms stiffen just the barest amount before something _mischievous_ flickers in his green eyes.

You feel the wet drag of muscle from the bottom of your jaw all the way to your cheek, and when Satan pulls back he blows just the tiniest bit of air on your face. It takes you a second to realize what happened. 

Satan just _licked_ you. 

You're too stunned to say anything, which is fine, because everyone else is so preoccupied with the whole argument that they've all missed it. Your face feels warm and you let out a small, embarrassed giggle, and then you hear another set of footsteps stop behind the two of you. 

"Satan," That's Lucifer's voice. He sounds annoyed. "Get away from them."

Which is probably what Satan wanted, because he unwraps his arms from behind you and moves to sit besides Asmodeus, whose eyes flicker from Satan, to you, and then back towards Lucifer. He inhales once, and something in his face changes. A flicker of _recognition_ , a smile, very much like Satan's, adorning his face.

They exchange knowing glances, which you absolutely don't miss.

Neither does Belphegor, it seems, who scowls, purple eyes settling behind you. "Really?"

Mammon and Leviathan, too engrossed in their arguing, haven't noticed the extra two bodies in the room—and glancing at Beelzebub who has gone back to eating from Mammon's plate, you're going to assume he hasn't either or is simply deciding to ignore it—because Mammon snarls, arms wide open and gesturing towards the door without looking away from Leviathan, and very loudly exclaims: "—ther day! He's clearly going through it! I mean have you _seen_ him, Luci is _not_ right in that puppy head of his!"

" _Mammon._ " Lucifer's voice isn't even loud, no emotion behind it. He steps closer to the back of your chair, and it's only fear from the _aura_ emanating from him that has you sitting still and looking forward, stuck between wanting to laugh at whatever the _fuck_ is even happening here and recoiling away from him. Especially so when his hands find themselves resting on your shoulders, warm and so big. 

_Jesus_ , you can't help but wonder, _is it just or me is it ridiculously hot in here?_

If the others hadn't noticed Lucifer's presence, then they sure as hell do now. Even Leviathan, who isn't the one who's under Lucifer's direct anger—unlike Mammon and Satan—cringes and untangles himself from you so fast it almost gives you whiplash. You hear Lucifer make a sound—pleased?—when Leviathan does, and then you feel him squeeze your shoulders once, then twice. Almost like he's not aware of it.

You chance a look up, startled, noticing how... not okay he looks? If earlier today he had looked flushed from what you were assuming was exhaustion, then right now he looks like it's hurting him to even be standing up. It's only when he sways forward, just the tiniest bit, that you realize he's been subconsciously leaning forward, enough so that he's almost enveloping you from the back. If it weren't for the chair, you're pretty sure his front would be so close to your back that the heat coming from him would be scalding.

It's so freaking weird. It's all you can do to not move, less you make him fall. You feel like he would, if you moved away.

If his brothers have noticed his appearance, they surprisingly have not said anything. 

You glance at Satan, a questioning look on your face, but he's too busy watching Mammon. You miss the look everyone shares between each other.

Mammon's whole body freezes, and his tail shoots straight up, stiff. It's funny, somewhat, watching him recoil away from Lucifer, even though there's a whole table, your body and the chair, between the two. His eyes flicker between Lucifer, you, and then they cast off to the side, he mutters an apology.

You frown.

What the fuck.

"Now that you've all stopped making unnecessary noise," Lucifer begins, gathering everyone's attention. "I'll take this opportunity that we're all together to bring to attention the fact that you are all behaving like uncivilized _animals_ —"

Satan scoffs, loudly. Lucifer continues.

"—and that if I get any suspicion of who it is exactly, that is stealing [Name]'s clothes, I will take appropriate measures to ensure this behavior is stopped." One of Lucifer's hands has somehow evaded your consciousness, because next thing you know you only feel one on your shoulder and the other cupping the back of your neck, claws tapping softly against the side of your throat. When you swallow, you _know_ he feels it.

Deliriously, you can't help the image of an innocent sheep trapped between the claws of a big, bad wolf, from coming to mind. 

The silence in the room is so thick you're sure you can pierce it with a butter knife. You're not sure why, but it's suddenly so, _so_ hard to breathe, and it's not fear exactly. Not really. 

_Lucifer is so close_ , your mind says, _he's never been this close... not since—_

It's the sound of your name that snaps you out of your thoughts. 

You blink, dazedly, and without thinking you let out the tiniest noise ever. A _whimper_ which definitely does _not_ go unheard by any of the men in the room. Touch-starved much?

You feel Lucifer's hand on the back of your neck tighten, just the tiniest fraction, before it eases.

You try not to jump when you feel his lips graze the helix of your ear, his voice soft but loud enough that his question is not missed by anyone in the room. "What were you missing?"

What were you... Oh _._

 _Oh_ _fuck._

You open up your mouth to reply, and because you're too busy trying to figure out how to answer that question when you very clearly made it your goal _not_ to do so earlier today, you miss out on the fact that Lucifer's attempt at monopolizing your space and your touch and the area around you in a show of possessiveness has the other demons in the room tense, envy in their eyes.

Nothing however, that they can do about it. _You_ don't smell it, can't even do it with your human nose, but every touch of Lucifer's is _significant_ a point being made without your knowledge.

You settle on staring at a spot just behind Mammon, and will yourself to not stutter. "My underwear."

Your answer brings everyone's attention back to you. You hear Satan make a choked up noise, much like Mammon. 

"Come again?" That's Asmodeus voice, surprised. 

The thing is, you're not buying it. You don't believe _he's_ the culprit, but you also can't discard him outright. Even if he's the most forward out of all his brothers when it comes to you and the things he wishes to do to you, _with_ you. You sigh, your face feels so hot, but you're already here.

"My underwear," you repeat. "Someone's been stealing my underwear, and it's starting to get annoying having to buy more pairs because one of you keeps taking them." And now that the secret is out, might as well get the rest of your thoughts out before you chicken out. "I don't care if it's my pajamas, or my workout clothes or my hoodies, hell, take my toothbrush if that's what gets you off. But not my underwear you guys, that's a little..." _too much, who the fuck even does that?_

There's a beat of silence, and then Belphegor starts laughing so hard that his fluffy tail moves faster than what you've seen before.

"You guys are such losers, this is just pathetic." 

Which of course sets the others off and you're all back to square one with the accusations. It at least drives the attention away from you, something for which you're thankful for. 

The rowdiness dies down after a little while once Mammon realizes that Beelzebub has eaten half of the food on his plate, and Lucifer's presence behind you has moved to the head of the table so he too can eat his portion of the food that's still warm enough to not be disgusting.

The topic on the table changes from accusations to council topics, and things are suddenly back to normal.

That is if you could manage to forget the weight of Lucifer's hands on your shoulders, your nape. The way you find his eyes settling on you from where he's sitting, every now and then—he's been staring at you the whole time, something that you can't quite name in his eyes.

You've done him the favor of not bringing this to attention, but it's becoming increasingly difficult when you want to look some place else and you lock eyes with him.

He's not even giving you any indication that he's truly looking at you, like he doesn't even know he's doing it. You test it out when you pull a face at him, and his expression remains steady. 

It almost looks like he's unfocused.

You don't know how long you've kept on staring at him, but the sound of Asmodeu's laughter as he walks out of the dining room is what snaps you out of it. You look around to find that only you, Beelzebub, and Lucifer are remaining.

You clear your throat, awkwardly, and watch as two sets of ears perk up at the sound.

Only Beelzebub looks up from his fourth serving of food to look at you. Lucifer's still staring, no longer into your eyes, but at a spot near your neck.

"So." You say, vaguely gesturing to the food, "I can stay to help Beel clean u—"

"No." Lucifer cuts you off, his voice sounds... rougher. His dark eyes finally remove themselves from your neck, and he taps his nails on the table. Beelzebub stares at the two of you, and then at Lucifer. There's a certain rigidness to his posture that you hadn't seen earlier, it mostly looks like he's ready to pounce.

You're just not sure who would be at the mercy of that mouth of his. 

You blink, startled. "I.. sorry?"

"I said no." Lucifer repeats. 

You feel a flicker of annoyance pop up, "Why not?"

"Because I said—" Lucifer begins, but Beelzebub let's out a displeased sounding noise, and Lucifer's attention snaps his way. They don't speak, just stare at each other for so long that _you're_ starting to feel like you're intruding on something you're not supposed to be privy to.

Lucifer's tail behind him is softly moving from side to side, the small sound it makes against the chair is distracting, just like that of his nails against the table. 

After a few more seconds, something in Lucifer's body relaxes, and he looks much more calm. You shoot Beelzebub a look, who's staring at Lucifer with the same dawning realization that you had seen reflected in both Satan and Asmodeus.

Hell, probably even Belphegor earlier.

Beelzebub says your name. "It's fine, I'll clean up."

You frown. "You sure?"

Beelzebub nods.

Well then, if that's how it's going to be.

When you push back your chair and stand up to leave, you notice that Lucifer does the same. He walks over towards you, settling behind you. When you shoot him a look, he doesn't say anything, content in simply watching. 

You try not to think too hard about it and instead walk out of the dining room, leaving Beelzebub alone, and Lucifer trailing closely behind you. He's not making any conversation, so you settle on not doing so either.

This isn't a new picture, Lucifer walking you to your room. Some days he does, the two of you engaged in conversation as he makes the short walk with you, other days it's spent in comfortable silence.

Today, the silence that accompanies the two of you is anything but comfortable, just very heavy. Loaded.

It's making you dizzy.

You bite the bullet when you glance behind you, and find his eyes locked into you. He really doesn't look okay. Manages to look both distracted and intensely focused on you at the same time. It's weird. "Are you okay?"

Lucifer makes a sound. "Yes."

You raise an eyebrow. "It doesn't look like it, Luci."

"I didn't know you cared so much about me," His lips quirk up amusedly at this, and his tail wags happily. 

"I do." It comes soft, so soft that you surprise yourself, and even him—if his hitched breathing is of any indication. "I mean, you're being an ass right about now, but aside from that—"

Lucifer scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I thought you needed my help, was that not the reason why you came in earlier to my office?"

You sigh, already noting that the two of you are standing outside your bedroom door. "You know what I mean, Luci."

At this, his face hardens just the tiniest bit. "They can't control themselves, it's embarrassing." 

If you didn't know any better, you would call this as him being jealous, but that's really not it. You squint at him, "It's not their faults. Not everyone can have tremendous amount of control like you, oh Great _Morningstar_."

Lucifer clicks his tongue, sets his jaw.

"You know I'm right." You say.

"Doesn't make it any less dignified," he's taking off his coat now, careful to not puncture it with his claws. "Especially so when they insist on involving you in their mess."

You don't point out how you only got _lucky_ that Luke's cupcakes only worked on Angels and Demons, and that Humans were oddly unaffected by the ingredients used. You _are_ still curious to know what animal you could've been though. 

"They'll always invol—"

He holds out his coat to you, and when you're too stunned by the action to do anything, Lucifer finds it as an invitation to lean in close, close, _close_ until all you can focus on are his eyes.

He drapes the coat over your shoulders, and it is _warm_ and smelling of something that makes you heady, your knees threatening to buckle. You're not breathing, you know you're not because you can feel your lungs are beginning to scream for air. But—

_But **—**_

You don't want whatever is happening here to stop. Lucifer is still crowding in on your space, you hadn't even realized your back was pressed flushed to the door behind you. How your hands are splayed open and supporting you against the door.

You probably look scared, what's with your widened eyes and hard breathing, the way your heart can't choose between skipping beats or beating so _goddamn loud_ that you're sure those canine ears of his are undoubtedly picking up on the sound.

And Lucifer?

Lucifer looks _hungry_. The way his eyes can't settle on any specific part of you, the way his hands _ **—**_ still holding onto his coat atop your shoulders, caging you in _ **—**_ are trying to keep as much contact with you as possible.

When you lick your lips, his eyes zone in on the movement lightning-fast, and Lucifer responds with bared teeth in turn **—** sharp and dangerous. His breathing is heavy, and there's a noise coming from the back of his throat that sounds like bad news. 

He leans in, and you make a small noise when you feel his lips settle on the side of your neck, nose brushing against your earlobe. He stays like that, before you hear him _inhale_ , and suddenly that's all he does.

He makes an appreciatively little sound, and behind you, the sound of his tail wagging is _loud_. Loud enough that you almost miss his displeased comment of _you still smell like him_ when he noses along the same area Satan had licked your earlier. 

You try saying his name, but it dies out in a pathetic whimper. It's only the sound of footsteps further down the hall that gives you the courage that you need to try again. " _Lucifer."_

You hear a curse against your throat, so unlike him, that you're expecting him to not listen to you. But he does, pulling back enough that you can now see how dilated his pupils are. How the blush on his face has worsened, a thin layer of sweat on his face, breath labored.

You're too scared _—_ too _nervous_ _ **—**_ to look anywhere else that is not his face. His ears flatten to the top of his skull briefly, before he too picks up the sound of footsteps.

It's almost like a light-switch has flicked on inside his head. He blinks, shakes his head as if he's trying to clear a fog surrounding him.

Mouth open, he tries to say something but it dies on his throat behind a growl that just sounds sad, almost _yearning_. 

He pulls back completely, looking like it's painful to even take some steps back. His face is a mix of disappointment, arousal, and anger. 

"You should go," he says.

You nod, breathe once, and without looking away from him you try to open up your bedroom door. Once you've managed to find the doorknob and pull it open, you step inside and close it behind you.

The instant the door closes behind you it's like a bubble _pops_ and suddenly you're more aware of your surroundings. Of the way your hands are slightly trembling.

You can finally breathe, and breathe you do—taking huge lungful's of air. _Lucifer's coat on your shoulders._

Your back meets the door and you slide down on it until you're sitting down on the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest and bringing a part of the coat up to your burning face, inhaling once. Then again.

 _It smells like him_. 

You hear Lucifer's footsteps retreat from your door not too shortly after, and you let out a sigh. When you shift your legs, you realize just how wet you are.

 _Fuck!_ is your first thought, followed by: 

_What the fuck._

Lucifer makes himself scarce. 

It's not unusual for him to not be around you and his siblings throughout the day, always locked up in his personal study completing some sort of paperwork for Diavolo or simply enjoying some music from the vinyl player he has in there. However, now it's like he doesn't even _exist_ , choosing to take his meals alone and avoiding everyone.

Or rather, avoiding _you_ specifically.

The first few days it doesn't even cross your mind past a wandering thought, what's with his brother occupying your free time with their own activities. They've grown bolder with their touches too, now that Lucifer isn't around to say or look pissed at the fact.

It only comes to your attention late at night when you're doing homework, wearing Lucifer's coat **—** properly, might you add _ **—**_ to keep yourself warm. Asmodeus had popped by earlier to cancel your activity with him tonight, mentioned something about feeling particularly tired and how he'll probably be sleeping for a while.

Which is when he had noticed the coat on your shoulders and had asked, puzzled, why you had asked earlier in the day if Lucifer had spoken to any of them _ **—**_ which he _had,_ so he was just ignoring you in particular _ **—**_ when you clearly had seen each other.

It was then you had told him that no, you haven't seen Lucifer in almost a week, which is when he gave you the coat. Asmodeus had nodded, and then out of nowhere asked if your _stuff_ had kept going missing.

Which was a weird question in on itself, considering the current conversation at hand. Still, you answered that _yes, someone keeps stealing them and it's not funny anymore_.

Asmodeus promised to take you out to buy you more if you promised to model them for him, and you agreed, of course laughing, and a touch endeared.

Which leaves you in your current situation. Stepping outside of your room in just your pajamas and feet covered in some fuzzy socks, you move with determination through the halls of The House of Lamentation.

The only protection from the cold being Lucifer's coat on yourself. You're going to give the coat back, and hopefully figure out _what the fuck is his problem_.

You have half-a-mind to try going to his other private study, the one hidden in the library, instead of the one in the same floor as that of your bedroom and his bedroom.

But the house is so cold and the place is so far away that laziness wins in the end. You settle for stopping by his room first.

You knock on it, slightly embarrassed by the possibility that he might be sleeping and you're being annoying, but after knocking for almost a whole minute, and then opening up his door—unlocked, which is _super_ weird already—only to find his room empty, sheets neatly made on his bed, you settle on making the trek downstairs.

Which is how you end up three steps down the stairs before you spot Lucifer walking _up_ them. The two of you stop, stare at each other. There's no sound save for your own breathing and Lucifer's. 

Lucifer's not wearing a shirt, giving you a nice view of his toned-body and the way the moonlight makes the alabaster skin almost shine, enticing. The sleep pants he has on hang low on his hips, the V of pelvis pronounced and calling your attention a little too much.

It's only when you see how stiff the tail behind him looks, and the way his ears are perked up and picking up every little sound, that you take him in at full picture.

He looks like he's barely slept, the moonlight highlighting every shadow on his face. It only comes to mind, when you shiver because of the cold, that he doesn't seem to be cold at all. In fact, he's _sweating_.

Lucifer opens his mouth, clenches his fists and _oh._ You hadn't noticed that. The thing on his hand, hidden behind his fist, and then behind his back. 

You're the first one to break the silence. "Can we talk?"

It takes him a few seconds to answer, especially so when you notice he's finally noticed his coat on your shoulders. Lucifer swallows, the movement prominently visible from where you're standing. 

"I don't think that's a good idea." He says, but it sounds weak. Like he's too tired to keep _this_ up. "Go back to your room, [Name]."

You stand your ground. "You've been avoiding me, Lucifer."

You don't miss his wince, his full name comes out almost clunky. It's been a while since you've called him anything other than Luci. 

"I just... just give me ten minutes of your time, I just want to talk." Still, you soften up just a little. "I just need to know if I did something wrong." Which is bullshit, because the one acting strange is _him_ , but you've been here long enough, known him long enough, to know when to give in and appeal to his other sides.

It works. Lucifer sighs and says; "Let's go to my office." 

You don't mention how he keeps going up the steps. It doesn't miss your notice how he's choosing to have this meeting in the office closest to his bedroom, the one that's near his other brothers.

Like the idea of the two of you being alone scares him, but that couldn't possibly be it? Can it?

Even so, as you lead the way to his office with Lucifer trailing behind you at a ridiculous distance, you can't help but feel like you're walking yourself into a trap. Inside the wolf's den. 

Stepping inside his office, hearing him close and lock the door behind him, _that's_ what makes the first flicker of doubt present itself in your stomach. Suddenly, you find yourself wrangling your hands together, mouth opening to find any words. Anything to ease into the conversation and—just what the hell _are_ you going to bring up? his ignoring you? the coat? that moment outside your bedroom door?

He takes the choice away from you when you feel him crowding up behind you, body curving ever so slightly over yours, arms sneaking around your waist and pulling you flush to him. He's overheated, slightly trembling, when you hear him inhale, loudly, from the top of your head. _Your hair_.

You feel him shift, feel his arms flex where they dig into your stomach. The soft _swoosh_ of his tail wagging from side to side. 

"You're wearing it," he says, absentmindedly. There's something pleased in his tone, in the way he's rubbing his nose everywhere he can. "Smells.... smells nice."

Your breathing hitches when he moves and you feel him nip your ear. Then you jump away from his arms, eyes wide, as you put as much distance between the two of you, only stopping when his desk digs into the small of your back and you have nowhere else to go.

Lucifer whines. It sounds so, _so_ much like an animal that it disorients you. Because you've seen the behavior from the others, and his words from the very beginning of this whole fiasco start to ring in your head. 

_Hypocrite._

"I—" You start, not sure what you're even going to say.

Especially so when Lucifer flexes both his hands—you note that whatever he had on hand earlier is gone—like he's contemplating what he's going to do now. He's not looking at you, gazed fixed on a spot in the floor. His breathing is loud, labored, like it pains him to even do that. He's sweating, and when you trail your eyes down his body you let out a gasp when you noticed the tent on his pants.

 _Oh my god_ , is your first thought. Then a slightly, more panicked, version of that when your sound of surprise snaps Lucifer's attention back to you. 

The way he's looking at you, the same way he's been looking at you for the last three weeks, it suddenly clicks on what it is. It makes you flush, it makes you nervous. It makes you—

"I tried," Lucifer says, taking a step forward and towards you. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, disheveled and sticking to his forehead when it falls back down. "I really tried."

You breathe, not knowing what to say.

"You make it so hard," he continues, it sounds pained. "It always comes down to you. I should've known, it's always you." Lucifer lets out a small laugh, "I've known control until I met you."

You frown, flexing your hands against the wood of his desk. You can't put yourself any further back, not with it's heavy presence behind you. When Lucifer eyes you from head to toe, you can't help but squirm in place and think that you're wearing too little right now, but the action seems to spur him on.

He closes the last of the distance between the two of you. Leans over you until you're leaning back as much as you can on the desk, partly lying on it, and his own body curving over yours, hot and imposing. His eyes are dilated to all hell, and there's a potent smell to him that is not off-putting, just present. You wonder how you hadn't noticed that before.

"You know," Lucifer says as he trails one single claw down the side of your face, your neck. A sound of approval at the back of his throat when you whimper, bare your neck, but don't break the eye contact. "I tried to keep the urges tampered down. It wasn't hard, not at first." The single claw taps against your sternum, you swallow. "I guess Satan was right though, loathe as I am to admit it."

He doesn't say anything else, which makes you wonder if he's waiting for a response from you. 

"W-what... what is it?" You cringe inwardly at how nervous you are right now, but you _can't help it_. Your hands feel clammy where they hold on to the desk, your body running hot and on it's way to matching Lucifer's temperature. "What was Satan right about?"

"My lack of control," Lucifer grins, mean smile full of sharp teeth. A complete difference to the softness that's partially hidden behind the hunger and lust in his gaze. "He called me a mutt."

You open your mouth to protest, but it dies down on your throat when Lucifer runs that same claw down your shirt and it just slices open like he's cutting through butter. He looks almost feverish with excitement when he picks up on the way your heart rate increases.

"He was right," he says, trailing that hand down, down, _down_ until it meets the waistband of your pajama shorts. He hooks his fingers under it, tugs at it once and lets it snap back against your skin. "It's pathetic, really."

He stops again, leans in even closer to you, and you can't help but wonder if the angle is awkward for him. For his arm, trapped between your bodies. But it all dies down when you feel him nip at the space between your neck and shoulder, nothing too hard, just the barest graze of sharp canines, a promise of something much more dangerous to come.

"All I can think about is _you_ ," he admits, voice thick with desire, "your scent, your body," you feel his hand cup your crotch, and the pad of a single finger pressing into your heat, where your shorts have begun to moisten with your arousal. Lucifer lets out an approving hum, and rubs you right there, loving the way your own hips are shifting to help out with the smallest tease of friction he's rewarding you with. "How much I want to fill you up, want to have you under me, crying and begging for more." Lucifer taps against your heated core, and you find your hands around his shoulders, not sure if wanting to push or pull away. "Like a dog in heat, hm."

His breathing is heavy, _warm_ against your skin. "Tell me," he breathes out, "tell me and I'll stop."

You whine, and Lucifer responds back with a growl of his own. "Good, you're so good."

Lucifer is adept at multitasking, _you know this_ , so it shouldn't come as a surprise that in the second you feel him rip apart your shorts alongside your underwear and you gasp, he's taken the opportunity to kiss you. There's a sort of desperation to the way he presses his front to you, erection grinding against your uncovered cunt, and in the way his hands are pawing at your sides, every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He gropes at your tits, squeezing and loving the way you moan in between his kissing, his licking into your mouth.

The way when he nips at your lips, and you cry out and try to push away, he licks the wound as a silent apology that gets lost behind the ardent energy behind every each movement of his. The grinding becomes more of a humping, rough and harsh, and the groping begins to teether on painful. Lucifer doesn't even let you have the time to breathe, he takes, and takes and _takes_ until you're left a whimpering, breathless mess, when he finally deems that he's had enough of you.

You make such a pretty picture, all sprawled on his desk with one arm over your head and the other gripping onto his shoulder as if to ground yourself. Wearing nothing but his coat, covered in _his_ smell, presenting yourself to him and _only_ him.

Lucifer pulls back enough that he can see you, but he's kept his erection right up against your own core. The slickness between your legs is too much, and you're too delirious and dizzy to realize that it's all mainly coming from him. Lucifer gives an approving hum, then he drops to his knees, hooks your legs over his shoulders and pulls you back enough that he can fit his head in between your legs easily.

It takes you a ridiculous amount of time to sit up enough to look at him, and the image alone is going to _never_ leave your head. 

You must have made a sound, because Lucifer's ears perk up again, and his lidded eyelids are focused on your cunt—drooling with your arousal and _so_ inviting. He spreads you open with one hand, the other holding your thigh to keep your legs opened.

" _Fuck_ ," he sounds excited and relieved, like he's been dying to get a taste of you. "You can't even begin to comprehend just what you do to me."

And the reality is that you don't. Not really. But Lucifer has always been better at expressing himself through actions, rather than words, so when he licks into your soaked slit, and moans right against it, you help him out by keeping your legs spread and moaning when he begins to lick into you with vigor.

The sounds coming out of your mouth are so foreign, so high and _airy_. A steady stream of _Lucifer, Luci! a-ah!_ that spurs the man on, the slurping of your juices against his mouth obscenely loud. You end up winding one hand through his hair, pulling. 

Lucifer growls, loudly, and the hand on your thigh squeezes hard enough that his claws sink just the tiniest bit into your thigh. You jolt, pulling on his hair again, and the angle shifts.

You cry out.

"Lucifer!" because now his nose is directly bumping into your clit, and he hasn't stopped eating you like it's his last meal. He's dedicated to the task, and when you feel the oncoming throes of your orgasm, he amps up the pressure, the speed he licks into you. Until finally you feel yourself coming, a sob leaving your throat.

Lucifer hums, pleased, the sound of his tail thumping against the floor loud, but easily overpowered by the wet slurping noises between your legs, and your sensitive moans. He doesn't stop licking into you, even when you try to pull away.

It's only when pulls away to breathe that you attempt to close your legs that he finally does something else other than prolonging your orgasm. He growls, gaze heated as he looks at you. "Don't stop me."

"Fuck," you breath out. 

His breathing is heavy, and his eyes trail off again to your pussy. He hesitates, like he really wants to just go back in and keep eating you out, but something in him clears and he shakes his head. Dazedly he pulls himself up to his feet and leans his body over you. He pulls his pajama pants down enough that his cock springs free, already hard and drooling pre in thick ropes.

He cages you in between his arms, head hiding in the crook of your neck, not biting but mouthing. Humping into your slick core, the head of dick sliding in between your lips and adding to the already wet mess between your legs. It feels particularly nice when the head bumps against your puffy clit. You let him rut against you, content to hear the way he growls into your neck, the small amount of air created by the wagging of his wolf tail.

That is until you feel one hand sneak in between the two of you, grabbing onto his heavy cock, and attempting to line it up to your hole.

You panic.

"W-wait!" You try to do _something_ but all it does is help pop the head of his dick into your tight cunt. You cry out, slightly from the pain, "Lucifer you're too— _fuck_. Wait, you're not going t-to fi— _ah."_

Lucifer grunts. He pulls back just the tiniest bit and pushes forward, hissing when he meets resistance rather than the give he _wants_. A part of him, the logical one, knows that he needs to stretch you out, his cock too big for you to take him without stretching you out first, especially with the knot at the base of his dick now added to the mix. However, the louder part—the one driving the wheels right now—is _adamant_ that you can take him, and take him you will.

He urges you to lock your legs behind him, and when you do, he pushes an inch further in. Your cunt is hot and impossibly tight against him, has him drooling into your neck, it's _embarrassing_ , but he can't seem to stop himself. "You can," he says, demands, "you can and you will."

You swallow, closing your eyes as you feel him pull back and push back again. A small victory in the way he hisses when he manages to fit another inch inside of you, and your gummy insides allow him to mold you to his shape. It seems like an eternity before he's managed to fill you up completely, his balls resting on the outside of your cunt.

"So good," Lucifer slurs, licks into your neck, before biting you. " _Fuck_ , I can't get enough of you."

You whine, arms thrown over his shoulders and scratching at his back when he pulls back out and slams into you. You feel the table under the two of you move, and you start to laugh deliriously when the pain begins to ease with his movements. It'd sure be a thing if he broke the desk while fucking you on it.

"Say my name," Lucifer growls, the drag of his cock against your puffy walls is good, has you following after his commands like he wants you to.

"Louder." Another rough thrust. You dig your nails into his back.

" _Lucifer!"_ a part of you wants to feel embarrassed, you're too loud—someone is bound to hear you. But Lucifer sounds pleased, can feel the way he grins, sharp and satisfied, against your overheated skin. 

"Yeah," he breathes out, "let them know who owns you." 

The room gets reduced to the sound of him pushing in and out of your overheated core, the slick squelch and the wetness in between your legs has you running hotter than before, and it's not helping that Lucifer keeps on pinching and tugging and biting every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

"You take me so well," he coos, sounding much more out of breath than his powerful thrusts seem to imply, "such a tight little cunt, you wanted me to fuck you like this, right?"

 _Holy_ _fuck,_ his voice is sinful, shouldn't have you clamping down so hard on his cock that way. But it does, and he groans, and embarrassingly, you let out another sound when your next orgasm catches you by surprise. 

Lucifer too, because he pulls back with wide eyes and watches as you writhe underneath him, chest heaving hardly and out of breath. You're biting your lips, a poor attempt at muffling your noises. Lucifer's breathing hitches when you open up your eyes, half-lidded, and you say his name.

It happens so fast that you don't even realize what's happened until you feel the cold floor pressing against your cheek. One moment you're laying on the desk, and the next you're on your knees, face down and pushed against the floor and ass up in the air. Lucifer behind you, the underside of his cock rubbing in between your ass cheeks as he humps you. When you look back and try to sit up, you lose your breath when he pushes you down again with one hand.

There's a crazed, heated look on his face, too excited for it to be super characteristically of him, marring his flushed features. 

"Lucifer, what the fuck?"

He grips his cock, slaps it against your ass. Against your pussy, his pre-cum combined with your own release has him completely soaked, leaves an uncomfortable _splat_ sound when he repeats the action again, and again.

"It's not enough," he murmurs, slightly displeased, and to himself. When you try to sit up again, he stops you with the beginning of a growl. "It won't take."

You frown, you're too tired to decipher the meaning of those words.

"You want me to fuck you, right?" He asks, but it sounds desperate. Like you're denying him the opportunity to hump his cock into you like he _clearly_ wants to do. But Lucifer—horny or not—doesn't do things without reason, so you wait for the other shoe to drop. 

"Y-yeah." 

"Present yourself to me," he urges, pressing the head of his cock into your entrance and pushing in, watching the way your pink insides cling onto him when he pulls back, and then in again. Shallow thrusts, frustrating to him and leaving you reeling from oversensitivity. "Go on, show me you want me."

Apparently, you're taking too long—moving too slow—because Lucifer growls, a warning, and the hand on your neck closes in. You gasp, the sensation uncomfortable, but also from embarrassment, because you can feel your insides clench with a need for more. 

He doesn't stop you when you sneak a hand in between your legs, your neck uncomfortable as you position your shoulder so you won't do anything stupid like pull a muscle, and then with two fingers, you attempt your best at spreading your labia with your fingers, V form showing your gummy, wet insides to Lucifer.

You feel yourself flush, static filling your head. Of course he'd want this, you with your ass in the air and showing him just how much you need him. As if the needy one here is you, and not him.

"Like a bitch in heat," you hear him laugh. Then he thrusts his cock inside of you in one move, and you can't _think_.

He's hitting you deeper than before, can feel the tip of his head drooling straight into your cervix. His hands are grasping onto your hips, making you meet his desperate thrusting as he fucks you harder, faster. You have to be making noise, you're sure you have to, but you can't concentrate on anything else other than the heaviness inside of you, the way his claws are biting roughly into your skin. You're going to bruise, possibly bleed if you haven't already, but it feels so _damn_ good.

"Aw fuck," Lucifer pants, sounding almost delirious. "So good, so, _so_ good. My perfect— _fuck_ —my master, mine." He growls, and you feel him push against you harder, like he's trying to make the two of you one. "Mine, all _mine."_

That's when you feel it, that thrusting of his faltering as his moans get louder, and something catching against the rim of your wet hole. You make out a confused sounding noise in between the wet squelch of your cunt, Lucifer's pelvis meeting your ass, and the moaning, and _crying?_

"You can take it," Lucifer says, sounding as much of a mess as you feel right now. "C'mon, cum on my cock."

Lucifer curls over you, the body heat is almost unbearable, and you're aware of someone saying _it's too much, Luci, f-fuck it's too much I can't-!_ before Lucifer groans, impossibly loud. He bites at your shoulder, muffling his own scream but not allowing you the same benefit, specially so when you feel something _pop_ inside of you, and then not moving. 

Lucifer whines, rocks his hips, keeps on pushing himself forward, tip of head never leaving the entrance of your womb as he seeks his own climax. It doesn't take him long, and you cum right along him, sobbing into the floor as you feel his seed fill you up, impossibly deep and inside. 

He's breathing heavily on top of you, too spent to do anything else. You're teetering on the brink between unconsciousness and the waking world, but Lucifer licks at the bite wound on your shoulder, and you whimper.

"Luci," you slur, voice barely above a whisper. "Luci... it's t' much..."

He shushes you, softly patting your sides, caressing. You hear him say something about how _good you are,_ _i'll take good care of you_ and _-et me go again, i have to fill you up_. You close your eyes, just a tiny bit, lulled into the darkness by his soothing voice.

Lucifer's beginning to move his hips again, knot deflating and his cum leaking out of you when you open your eyes again. It's a bit blurry, and you can barely see anything around you when Lucifer is slowly rocking his hips into you again, still hard. However, that's when you notice it.

Underneath one the couch cushions, a white pair of undies stuffed haphazardly and hanging from the edge.

**Author's Note:**

> so back in august i kept thinking about how [lucifer loves to keep used panties as a souvenir](https://twitter.com/crystalbases/status/1293018254915624960?s=20) which was then encouraged by my twt moots, and like,,, that still stuck with me so here we are ~~read the thread, it's so worth it~~. lucifer is such a weird character to write idk how y'all do it i'm praying i didn't butcher him _too much..._ but i was seriously drawing blanks when it came to him and the dirty talk and just generally all of his interactions with the reader, idk. 
> 
> this shouldn't be 10k words long. it really shouldn't. 
> 
> as always, never beta read, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> come yell at me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/crystalbases) and enable my dumb yelling.


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